


Rage

by cadaveres



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 21:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4682669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadaveres/pseuds/cadaveres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rage consumes him, a thirst for vengeance for a pain that is not his to begin with. <br/>--<br/>Taralynerial was impulsive and prone to making others' pains his own. After an attack that wounded his friend, Namathari, he swore to avenge the hurt that the human had put her thorugh. </p><p>This is the story about how he set a path for himself from which he was never coming back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rage

Fire, he could feel the fire burning inside his chest; the rage bubbled up and began consuming him. 

“The rage is not yours to begin with.” He could hear the protests, the concern in the voice of his friend, but he didn’t listen. 

Bow in hand, he tracked the human like he used to track druffalo on the mountains, lurking in the shadows, watching from afar. Little by little he began placing distance between him and his clan’s camp, leaving the comfort of support and backup without a second thought. 

It was at a human village that he found him; in the dark of night, he could see no trace of shame or regret on his features. All he could think of was his laughter and his friend’s whimpers. 

Ears deaf with rage, eyes blind with hate, the fire burned again as he reached for an arrow; the all-consuming rage did not allow him to see the consequences of murdering a human in a village where others would think of him as nothing but a savage, where he might even perish at the hands of those his people warned him about. But the rage was too strong. 

He drew his bow and approached the man slowly, careful not to make any noise as to not to alert him. Once in front of him, close enough to make it impossible for him to escape, he called for him. 

“Shem!” he spat with disdain. The man turned to face him and the small smile playing on his lips soon became a grimace ridden with fear. He didn’t allow him to respond; he refused to allow him the privilege of defending himself because he had no such sympathy for the child he had wounded.

Taralynerial had never seen so much blood before; he collapsed on the floor, dangerously close to the puddle of blood gurgling from the human’s open wound. He heard someone scream, the noise muffled by Namathari’s voice ringing in his ears. Soon he heard footsteps approaching; he saw humans surrounding him, screaming at him, but his legs wouldn’t move and no emotion could be found on his face. 

He silently cried when forceful arms carried him to a prison cell, hiding his face from the humans who tried to catch a glimpse of the savage elf. 

Sitting on the cold, hard floor of the holding cell, he pulled his legs closer to his chest and allowed himself to feel; this was a luxury he did not have during the days he spent tracking the now dead man. He could feel cold, but not the type of cold he was used to when he roamed the mountains with his clan. The rage had subdued and instead of the burning inside his chest he was left with the cold clutching at his neck and forcing the air out of his lungs. He wished he could at least feel fear or rage; he tried desperately to feel something, anything, but instead he was met with nothing.

“The burden was never yours,” he heard the voice chastise him again. 

“But I made this rage my own.”

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanons about Asha's Inquisitor, Taralynerial.


End file.
